Crawling in the Dark
by Annette Gail
Summary: Looking for the answers has never been at the top of his list, but the surfacing answer begins to turn his organized world inside out with the arrival of rebel prisoners and the one person who can help him find out who he truly is.
1. Forgotten Innocence

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Gundam Wing. I do not own anything else that's copyrighted that's mentioned here, or even some stuff that ISN'T copyrighted. I do, however, own nearly every character mentioned here and the plot. And I'm a very possessive owner. :points to fire-breathing dragon sitting behind her:

**A/N:** For those loyal readers out there, this is still _Chaos Theory_. I just found a better name and summary for it. And for new readers, well, welcome and I hope you enjoy this! But I will warn you before hand. This is rated M (R) because of the "Adult" Language and Content. Unfortunately, there will be no lemons or limes. Unless of course I change my mind, and then I shall warn you all before that ever happens. :)

* * *

_"I hate you," he snarled. His father was stunned into silence for a few heartbeats._

_"Get out of here," he growled. "GET THE FUCK OUTTA HERE!"_

_"Fine!" he replied, shouting once more. "I never wanna see you again!"_

_"GET OUTTA HERE!"_

_"GO TO HELL!" he screamed at the top of his lungs, slamming the door shut with all his strength. The house seemed to vibrate with the tension and rage. In a few seconds, he was on his motorcycle, speeding away from his father, his family, and his life. He wouldn't stop until he was dangerously low on fuel, and that was at a far away gas station in the middle of the night. He realized that he hadn't taken anything with him in his rage. At the moment, he loathed the idea of calling home to get his things. He didn't care. Let them keep 'em. He didn't need the fuckin' memories anyway. All he needed was a job, his bike, and himself . . ._

Lieutenant Bane Marquise blinked his steel blue eyes, burying the memory deeper inside his subconsciousness. He gazed at his translucent reflection in the thick window, haunted by how much he looked like his father. Aside from his platinum black, shoulder length hair, he was a spitting image of his handsome sire. He vaguely, very vaguely, remembered their last words.

He shook his head ever so slightly to rid himself of those thoughts and memories. It was pointless to dwell on the past. His father was dead, along with his mother. He didn't know, exactly, what had happened to his brother after the cataclysm that destroyed the Colony he lived on, or if he even had survived. He didn't truly care, in any case. His family was the past. The Allies' Army was the future. It was all he needed.

Absently, Bane traced his face on the glass with one finger. How many years it had been since he left his home he didn't know. He knew that at least two years had passed, as he had been in the Allies' Army for about two years. For at least two years he had been unable to remember his previous life, having woken in the Allies' Army custody. So why, then, did the memory of the argument come up now? Was it the rumor of the rebels' base? Was it the stress from his occupation? Or was it some unremembered anniversary of an important event from his forgotten past? He didn't know, and could care less. It was the past, and Bane had always had little use for the past.

He tore his steel blue eyes from his reflection, and looked outside to the stars. He had once thought them very beautiful, just as his family had in his sparse memories. He had thought the Colonies would be the place for a better life. "The land of opportunity." Bane smirked at his naivete, his boyish innocence.

To one side of his handsome reflection was the moon. It was big, grey, and resmebled a pockmarked graveyard more than the celestial sphere it did from Earth. Decades, almost a century before the first Colonies were built, the people of Earth built a community on the moon's exposed surface. Like the Colonies, people flocked to the new civilization in hopes of a better life. Like the Colonies, they suffered a rude awakening at just how different and hard life was in space. There were water and food shortages, and medical supplies were limited, at best. It was a hard, cruel lesson in life, but a valuable lesson nonetheless. Life was better on Earth, and no matter how much a machine is fashioned to look, behave, and essentially become the planet, it was still a machine. It still broke down, and sometimes nothing could fix it. Yet, humanity seemed to not get the lesson.

"The story of humanity," Bane muttered to himself, fully aware at how cynical and bitter he sounded. "The grass is greener on the other side . . ."

"Sir, we're docking with the L2 Colony," a young woman named Sarah Brown said with a salute. Bane nodded and waved her away. He sighed, resigning himself to yet another mission on yet another Colony.

* * *

She had no name and no future. Her face was filthy from living on the streets and digging through the garbage for food, clothing, and shelter. Her clothing was dirtier than she was, and worn pitifully thin in several places. Her pants were far too big for her tiny frame, and had to be held up with a piece of fraying, bloodstained rope. Her shirt was also exceedingly big, going past her filthy, scarred knees. Blood and dirt stained the shirt, and the original color was a mystery.

The girl existed on the mercy of others, using her youth and innocence to beg for handouts. She had big, ice blue eyes that stared at the people with unusual intensity and fearfulness. Foul, golden blond hair stuck out in greasy clumps. Someone had once chopped it short at one time, but who it was was another mystery. She was covered in filth and sewage, and her stench was foul.

The child had been alone for as long as she could remember, which was not very long as she could not have been more than four years of age. Apathetic people ignored her, and misathropic people usually tried to harm her in some way. It was her unfortunate luck that apathy ran high in the Colony; her skeletal frame could atest that. With the shortages of food, water, and medical supplies, many were reluctant to be responsible for a small child. Already, the hunger pangs were getting weaker and weaker. Her cough was harsh, and sometimes blood would fleck her lips.

"Get the hell outta here, ya filthy little bastard!" screamed a storeowner, kicking in her general direction. "You're driving away my customers!"

She ran as far as she could, to the nearest alley, until she doubled over in a coughing spell that left her breathless. Has she anything in her stomach, it would have landed on the sidewalk. She felt cold, but sweat beaded on her small forehead. Tears fell from her icy blue eyes, but no one heard her cries, and if they did, they didn't care. They never did.

* * *

"Stop the tyranny of Earth!" a brave soul cried out from the crowd. "Stop the oppression of the Allies' Army!"

"Colonial freedom!" another yelled, joining the other. The crowd, rapidly growing more restless, picked up the chant.

"Freedom!"

"Freedom!"

"Freedom! Freedom!"

The soldiers continued on, not oblivious to the crowd, but ignoring their angered pleas. Soon, the chant grew into a roar, with few discernable words or phrases. They pressed against the sidewalk, forcing the soldiers to walk in the deterioating street, shouting profanities and insults that were thrust in with other such cries. Surprisingly, there were several youthful voices in the chants, and children ran amongst the adults, shouting obscenities. No one reprimanded them for their foul language. Many of the two dozen soldiers found it perturbing to hear such expletives from such small children. Even the veterans felt for the plight of the Colonists.

"At least they're not throwin' shit at us," muttered one, deftly stepping over a deep pothole.

"That's because they have nothing to throw," Bane replied stolidly. "They use everything, even garbage."

The soldier shook his head. "Poor bastards. They don't got much, and here we are, takin' more away from 'em."

"Gettin' soft on us, son?" the captian, and first in command, asked roughly. "That could almost be considered rebellious thinkin' there."

"No, sir," he said swiftly. "I jus' feel sorry for 'em, that's all."

Bane could almost predict the captain's next words.

"Suck it in, soldier," he ordered quietly, though forcibly. "Ain't no room fer pity fer these people. Fer all you know, they could be the enemy."

"But the children-"

"The kids could be their spies," the captain growled, glaring at the man with his single good eye. "Think abou' it."

The soldier nodded, but said nothing. Bane continued on, ignoring the demands, insults, and death threats from the Colonist crowd. It was what usually happened. He was used to it, so much that it no longer truly bothered him.

The captain ordered them to stop at a crossroads. "Alright. Lieutenant Marquise, you take twelve men and go left, I'll take the rest and go on ahead."

"Yes, sir," Bane nodded succintly. He motioned to a dozen men to follow him, unholstering his gun as he did so. The other soldiers copied his example, movnig cautiously down the now abandoned street. Apparently, the crowd had interest only for the captain and his men.

"Where is everbody?" one of the soldiers asked, the same that had argued with the captain. "It's like a ghost town . . ."

"That's because we're close," Bane replied softly. "Now shut up, and keep watch."

No sooner than he said that, then a gunshot rang out. The soldier's chest exploded in a shower of blood and bone fragments. He crumpled to the ground, already dead. The remaining soldiers sent a responding spray of bullets in the general direction of where the shot had originated.

"Cease fire, you idiots!" Bane snapped. The soldiers stopped, but there tension showed on their pale faces. The leiutnenant knelt by the dead body, rumaging through the pockets for weapons and ammunition. "The rebels will be arriving any minute. We want to be gone by then."

"What about Jackson?" a soldier asked. "We can't just leave him!"

Bane stood, glaring at the soldier. "You wanna drag his bloody corpse all over this Colony?"

"But we can't just leave him," the soldier argued. "I mean, what if the rebels get ahold of his body?"

"We leave him here," Bane ordered coldly and firmly. "He'll slow us down."

"But, Lieutenant-"

"But nothing, private!" snapped Bane. "We're leaving this area. If you want to stay with your buddy until the rebels come, that's your decision." He turned away, pocketing the weapons and ammunition. "Move out!"

One by one, the soldiers followed him, but not out of any feelings of respect, but because he was the only one capable of leading them through the Colony alive.

* * *

Dun dun dun DUUNN! Will Bane get his men to safety? Will the nameless girl survive to the end of the next chapter? Will the misuse of the end-of-the-chapter questions ever end?

I know this first chapter's long, but I hope it wasn't too much of a trial to go through. Anyways, tell me what you think! I welcome everything, but don't be surprised if your flames are put out with my sarcasm and humor (more like insanity).


	2. Freedom Fighters

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Gundam Wing. There is a reason this is called _fan_fiction. _Fans _write this. As a fan, it would be nigh impossible for me to own Gudam Wing . . . Besides, it wouldn't have turned out as good if I were the one who owned it.

**Notice:** I'll be at my father's this June (4-26), and unable to update on this story during my stay. I'll try to post a chapter right before I leave, and right when I get back home.

**

* * *

**

The night found Bane holed inside a run down, condemned building, with only five men remaining. The mission had taken an unexpected, unwelcomed turn, one that could very well prove fatal to any and all of the remaining soldiers of the Allies' Army. As it was, two out of the five men were injured, one needing immediate medical attention. One of the more medically inclined soldiers did all he could, but it was clear it wouldn't be enough.

"Lieutenant," he said, walking up to Bane, who was standing watch at the hallway. Bane remembered his name to be Doyle. "We need to get Hattori back to the base. Without proper medical attention-"

"I am aware of our situation," Bane interrupted laconicly. Earlier, they had attempted to contact the captain, but the soldier had been hit with a grenade. There was not enough left of either the radio or soldier to salvage.

"But, sir, we have to get back, or he'll die."

Bane closed his steel blue eyes against the wave of guilt, glad that he wasn't facing the soldier. "And how do you prepose we do that?"

"McNally might've made contact with the captain before he . . . before he died," the red haired soldier and acting medic replied, though he didn't sound too hopeful.

"The best thing we can do is wait here," Bane told him firmly. Doyle nodded, but Bane didn't see, he only heard him walk away. The lieutenant kept his eyes on the turn at the end of the hall, expecting rebel soldiers to enter any minute. Sleep was not an option.

* * *

Hattori died during the night, choking on his own blood. The deaths now totaled to seven. Having no time for formalities, they merely covered the body with an already bloodstained, ragged sheet, and left to beat the dawn. 

The streets were still empty, but that was to be expected at the early hour. The only other living things awake on the Colony were the rats that were too small to even be eaten. However, the soldiers had little interest in rats. Survival and finding their commanding officer was foremost on their minds. In any case, they still had rations in case they were hungry.

"Suppose we don't find the captain," suggested on soldier, his face showing the worn years he had picked up throughout the night. "What then? What're we gonna do then?"

His voice had a hysterical edge to it, but his companions didn't answer.

"Are we gonna jus' wait here 'til we die?" he cried. "Like worms on a hook waitin' for the fish to come?"

"That's enough, Private Mayer," Bane ordered, no sign of weariness in his voice, although his tone was grave.

"Fuck you, lieutnenant!" he screamed. "It's all your damn fault we're in this mess! If it weren't for your fuck ups, the others might still be alive!"

"Are you suggesting that you want a different commander?" Bane asked mildly, but his steel blue eyes glinted dangerously from behind his tousled, platinum black hair.

"I-I didn't say that," Mayer amended quickly, losing steam.

"No, but you implied it," Bane told him, his voice remaining eeriely calm.

Another soldier, O'Mally, stepped foreward. "He didn' mean anythin' by it, Lieutenant. He's jus' tired and scared . . . Hell, we all are."

"Perhaps," the dark haired lieutenant allowed. He turned to the outspoken soldier. "I need to know, are you with us? Are you going to follow my orders from here on out?"

"Yes, sir," he nodded after a moment's hesitation.

"Good," Bane said. "Now, let's continue."

The Colony lightened, copying the effect of a sunrise, but it brought no comfort to the tired, worn soldiers. Light only meant that they were easier targets. Most of them had lost hope of survival, following Bane only to live longer. Colonists began to come out, though most were scrouging for scraps in the garbage, glaring in envy at the Allies' Army soldiers.

Appearing from seemingly out of nowhere, a group of Colonist, looking infinintly healthier than those searching the garbage, stepped out from where they were taking cover. They made their way fearlessly towards the handful of soldiers, carrying semi-automatic firearms. Outnumbered and outgunned, the soldiers had little choice but to wait for them to approach.

"Soldiers of the Allies' Army," called the leader, a tall man, scarred from a life of living on the Colony. "You are hereby under arrest."

"On what grounds?" challenged Trenton, the blood on his bandaged head leaking through. "Whose authority?"

The man stopped and grinned roguishly. "Mine. Tie their hands behind their backs. Search them. If they resist, kill 'em."

The rebels approached Bane first, as he was in the lead. The lieutenant waited patiently until they were within arms length. Knowing they would be confident he wouldn't risk death, he struck out, landing a solid punch to the first man's nose. Blood streamed down his face as he screamed. Bane kicked him in the stomach, and as he bent over in an automatic response, he smashed his boot in the rebel's unprotected face. Without slowing down, he disarmed the other two in a series of lightining fast, painful punches. By the time the rebels and Allies' Army soldiers broke free of their shock, Bane had confiscated one of the rebel's semi-automatic weapons.

The street erupted into a fenzy of gunfire, but neither the soldiers nor the rebels fired a shot. The rebels collasped to the ground, blood pouring from exit wounds in their chest, abdomen, and head. Behind the rebels stood more than a dozen of Allies' Army soldiers, wearing fresh, navy blue and black uniforms. Bane's men launched into a weary, but grateful, cheer.

"Lieutenant Marquise?" an officer asked, walking towards Bane. He had silver hair, with a large bald spot on top of his head. Bane nodded warily. "I'm Colonel William Bunt."

"Colonel," Bane said, saluting sharply despite his weariness.

"Where are the rest of your men?" the colonel asked.

The muscles in Bane's jaw clenched, but that was the only indication of emotion. "Dead, sir. Privates Jackson, Richards, Asano, Tibbs, McGreggor, and McNally were killed by the rebels yesterday. Private Hattori died last night from his injuries, and Private Trenton needs medical attention for his injuries."

"And what of Captain Montague and the rest?"

Bane shook his head. "I don't know, sir. We split up just before the first attack."

"I see," Colonel Bunt said. He seemed to consider that. "I'll have my men search the Colony for him. In the meantime, you take your men to Hanger 39. The way should be safe."

"Yes, sir," Bane saluted. He motioned to his men to follow him, and slowly led them Colony's hangers.

* * *

When the Allies' Army had taken his father and mother captive, his father told him to watch over his sister and friends. It was a job he took seriously, as it was the last thing his father had said to him. He had information from a trusted spy that they were still alive, and were being treated fairly, but he still hated the Allies with a passion for stealing his parents and forcing the heavy burden of responsibility and leadership onto his young shoulders. 

Solo Maxwell took careful aim, and fired at the target, which had a crude drawing of a dark haired, vampiric man on it. The bullets hit the center, two hundred yards away. The chestnut brown haired young man didn't take time to congradulate himself, but fired three more shots in the same hole, and five others close by. In less than fifteen seconds, Solo had emptied the round into the target, creating a gaping hole in the middle of the figure's head.

He looked up from the sights of his gun to see the damage, then congradulated himself on his marksmanship. Cobalt blue eyes, currently free from the heavy responsibility of leadership and decision making, twinkled with pride. He indulged in a rare smile, and ran a gloved hand through his thick hair. Solo wore it long, just above his shoulders, with a single lock woven in a braid that hung just to the right of his face. Strands of thread-thin hair escaped the plait, giving him a careless appearance. He wore a black muscle shirt under an oil- and grease-stained jean vest. It had originally been a jacket, but the sleeves had been torn off at one time or another. His fading jeans fell over worn boots that had seen many better days.

Turning from the target, he holstered his gun without reloading it, a habit he was desperately trying to break. Suddenly remembering, Solo took out his gun and put in a new clip. With a self-deprecating smile, he put away the firearm and patted the holster. A snapping twig caused him to whirl around and redraw his gun, all traces of pride and humor gone.

"Trin?" he asked, seeing the familiar blond. He holstered the gun for a third time. "What're you doin' here?"

"Nothin'," she replied, smiling. Unlike Solo, her smiles were ready and welcome in even the most exterme predicaments. Her honey blond hair was boyishly short, save for her bangs, which hung around her chin. Prussian blue eyes stared up at him with passion and joy. As per usual, Trinity Yuy was dressed in an emerald tube top, form fitting blue jeans, and a lacy, black over shirt.

"Announce yourself next time, Trin," he told her with the barest hints of a smile. "I'd hate to lose you."

Trinity gave him a playful smile, sidling up to him. "Is that a professional sentiment, or personal?"

"Both," Solo said, taking the petite young woman into his arms. She responded by wrapping her own arms around him and leaning into his chest. Her head mised his chin by barely half-an-inch.

"Don't worry 'bout me, 'kay?" she told him. "I don't plan on dying anytime soon."

"Good," murmured the young man. "'Cause you're a fighter. I'd be scared if you gave up. I'd think I'd have to give up then."

"That puts a lot of pressure on me, Solo. I can't be the Rock of Gibraltar."

"I know," he sighed, "and I don't really expect you to be. But it's the truth, Trinity. I don't wanna have to wake up without you. You're too important to me. And that's _not _a professional sentiment."

"I love you, too," she whispered with a smile, tilting her face up to his.

"Hey, Commander, is this a private meeting, or can anybody join?"

The couple broke apart, blushing, and turned to the newcomer, Shawn Peacecraft. He was grinning in triumph at catching them off guard, sharing a rare tender moment. The smile reflected in his steel blue eyes, set in a handsome face. Platinum gold, chin length hair fell around his face in sunlit locks. His clothing usually consisted of blue to black wife beaters tucked into baggy, black jeans and combat boots; this was no exception. As he came closer, his grin melted, revealing that he had more reason behind his visit than to embarrass his friends.

"The L2 Colony base has been destroyed," he told them in a low tone, as if afraid others would overhear.

"What?" Solo demanded, the shock not allowing him to say much else.

"By who?" Trinity asked a breath later. "I mean, we know the Allies' Army was behind it, but who?"

"Colonel William Bunt," Shawn said, "or at least that's what the public thinks. But the real bastard behind it was Bane Marquise. He's being promoted to major today, so he's going to be given more reign."

"Damnit!" hissed Solo, barely containing his anger. "How many bases does that leave us, now?"

"Fourteen, altogether," the blond young man replied. "Marquise's really done a number on us this year."

Trinity's eyes widened. "We lost six bases in one year?"

"Yeah, no thanks to that fuckin' bastard," growled Shawn, spitting. "Probably has a spy somewhere."

"Not around here, he doesn't," Solo corrected. "Everyone here'd give their life for the rebellion."

"Yeah, whatever," Shawn muttered. "I say, we get rid of Marquise, we start winning. Seriously, the Allies wouldn't know what to do without him."

"Goddamn traitor," Solo agreed.

"Traitor? To whom?" Trinity asked in confusion.

"The Colonies," Solo replied angrily. "That bastard's a Colonist, I'd bet my life on it! As much as he knows about Colonies and Colonists . . ."

The petite blond fell silent for a few seconds. "Then why does he fight for the Allies?"

"Don't ask me," Shawn said. "He's probably a coward who figured the Allies would win the war, and sided with them. I mean, just when he started showing up, we started losing bases and men."

"That could be entirely unrelated," Trinity argued without much enthusiasm.

"Yeah," Shawn pretended to agree. "And you and I couldn't possibly be cousins, now could we? Face it, Trin, the guy's a fuckin' murderer. We have pretty solid evidence that he . . ." He swallowed suddenly. "That he killed your mother and my family."

* * *

He had been standing at attention for more than an hour, not moving more than was necessary. His legs were starting to go numb from standing, and he had already developed a cramp in his calf. Bane wanted the ceremony to be over, if to only get the life back into his legs. The newly-promoted general had other ideas, however. It seemed he loved to hear himself talk, and obviously thought everyone else did as well. 

"But," William Bunt, now a general, said after nearly an hour of talking about how he swooped in at the last minute, armed with a few men, and saved Bane and his men from imminent death at the hands of the lowly, traitorous rebels, "I could not have done it without the courage, loyalty, and quick thinking of Major Bane Marquise, and Sergeants Trent Mayer, Martin Doyle, David O'Mally, and Oscar Trenton. Thanks to those brave soldiers, and myself, we have dealt a serious blow to the rebels' forces. I'm pleased to announce that we will soon defeat . . ."

Bane bit his tongue to keep from pointing out the fact that the base on the Colony was small in comparison to hundreds of others, barely more than a mere hiding place for the rebels. He also noted that, during his speech, General Bunt made no mention of the little Colonist girl found by one of the soldiers, or that the said soldier was killed in trying to take her to Hanger 39. Nothing was said, either, of the soldiers who were killed trying to survive in the Colony.

When the ceremony was finally over, Bane turned on his heel and left.

* * *

Well, there's the newest chapter of Chaos Theory! I guess everyone can tell by now this is one of those children-of-the-Gundam-pilots stories . . . Never fear, that's as far as _that_ cliche gets! Review, please! I don't care if you like it, hate it, think I should be burned at the stake, what have you, just review!

**goodbyegirl - **Thanks for reviewing! It made my entire day! I'm so glad you like my story . . . Here's another chapter! And don't worry about me failing to dish out chapters, at least for a while. I have most of the story already typed out. I'll be posting and updating every week or so. Most would be every two weeks.


	3. Sweet Dreams Are Made of These

**DISCLAIMOR:** I do not own Gundam Wing; I'm only borrowing it. Don't worry, though. I put it back where I found it when I'm done!

**NOTICE:** I'm going away this Saturday (June 4) and won't be coming back until June 26. In that time, I won't be able to update on my story. I'll try to post the Friday before I leave, and post again when I get back, but I can't make any promises.

* * *

Despite the fact that it was late, and the day had been long and hard, Trinity was having trouble sleeping. She rolled over for the upteenth time, turning to look out the window. She couldn't yet see the moon; it was still above the window. Yet the moonlight bathed her and her lover in its silvery glow. A slight smile crossed her chapped lips as she looked at him.

Asleep, Solo lost much of the weariness he seemed to carry with him. The tired lines on his handsome face relaxed. Night was one of the few times the young man could find peace, and it showed. Trinity wondered at how much younger he looked while sleeping. With a loving smile, she reached over and brushed an errant strand of chestnut colored hair out of his face. He stirred, and opened his cobalt blue eyes.

"Why're you smilin'?" he asked, his voice still slurred with sleep.

"Do you know how handsome you look right now?" Trinity replied.

Solo carressed her cheek with a roughen hand. "Nowhere near as beautiful as you."

"Flatterer," she accused gently. "You know you can't get your way with just that, don't you?"

"It'll work for now, won't it?" he asked with boyish innocence.

"Oh, I suppose," Trinity yeilded with a grin, snuggling closer to her lover. Solo wrapped her in a loving embrace, holding her close. They lay together like that for several moments; Trinity listening to Solo's heart beating and Solo breathing in her scent. No words needed to be spoken between them.

"Solo," Trinity began. "Don't die, okay?"

"I won't if you won't," he replied glibly.

"I mean it," she insisted in a hoarse whisper. "Promise me you won't die on me. Promise."

Solo's grip on her tightened. "I won't die, Trinity. And neither will you. When the war's finally over, we're gonna get married, have a buncha kids, grow old . . ." He trailed off, staring up at the ceiling.

"I love you," Trinity breathed, leaning up to kiss him. It was not a passionate kiss, but rather one of promise.

"Make love to me, Trinity," Solo whispered after they parted. The petite blond answered with another kiss.

* * *

_"GO TO HELL!"_

Bane stared up at the ceiling in confusion. Yet again, the whisps of memory trespassed into his thoughts. Their significance was lost to him, as was the reason they were persisting. The ceiling held no answers to his silent, piercing questions.

A quick glance at the alarm clock revealed the time to be three hours past midnight. The glowing, red numbers seemed to mock his ignorance, portending an important date from his past. Yet, he could not remember what it could be. He tore at his divided, incomplete memory for the answers, but none came.

He sat up and shook his head to rid himself of the fragmented memory. It had no place in his life anymore, he told himself. It was part of the past, along with his rejected family. It was no longer important. It was the past, not the future. He didn't need to remember his mother or father. He didn't need to know what had become of them after he left, or what had happened that they became so distant. It wasn't important.

Deep down inside, Bane knew it wasn't true.

"Then why_ is _it important?" he asked the ceiling. As expected, there was no answer. In a sudden wave of restlessness, the major tossed aside the sheet covering him and began to pull his black uniform pants on. Habitually, he slid the black undershirt on, covering his muscular, scarred torso. Forgoing shoes and any other article of clothing, he walked out of his quarters.

The base was dark and empty; there was little reason for soldiers to be awake and guarding the base when they were now on the L1 Colony, which was under complete Allies control. In the lonely corridors, surrounded by soft, grey shadows, Bane felt at peace. He avoided the sections of the base he knew to be populated with the soldiers still awake, hoping to avoid answering questions.

He allowed his mind to wander on its own and let his feet take him to wherever they pleased in the base. Despite the peace, however, there was a sense of waiting in the corridors, similar to the feeling in a hospital. The silence was deafening. Bane felt as though he were suffocating in the sheer silence of the base. A profound sense of lonliness washed over him as he walked along, leaving him empty. It struck him as odd that in the misdt of hundreds to thousands of men and women he could still feel lonely; yet, as Bane looked out into the vast darkness of space, he knew he could.

A slight sound made him look around, snapping him out of his introspective funk. As he studied his surroundings, he found himself in the medical center of the base, brought there, no doubt, by the hospital feeling of the base. The dark haired young man continued looking for the noise that had roused him.

"Who's there?" he demanded softly, trying to pierce the shadows. The sound came again, with more clarity. It was a child crying. Immediately, Bane knew who it was. He quietly stode to the cracked door where the girl was roomed. Pushing the door open slightly, he peeked inside.

She lay on the bed, curled in a tiny ball. Each suppressed sob made her entire body tremble. As Bane silently stepped in the room, he realized the girl was still asleep. An unfamiliar feeling pulled at his heart, and he found himself at the girl's side, wondering how to comfort her. As gently as he could, he stroked her soft, golden curls. Rather than comforting her, it caused her to awaken. She flinched from his touch, and turned to look at him with almost too-large, ice blue eyes.

"It's okay," he told her softly. "You were having a nightmare."

She stared at him with her big eyes, looking like a frightened rabbit. Her breath came in quick gasps. Bane remained where he was, not moving. Eventually, the girl calmed, seeing that he was not going to hurt her.

"Are you alright now?" he asked, feeling slightly foolish for talking to a child. She shook her head, never taking her eyes off his. "Do you want me to leave?"

To his surprise, she shook her head, her lower lip trembling ever so slightly. He grabbed a chair and pulled it up to her bed. She watched him as he sat down beside her, then silently climbed in his lap, ignoring his feeble protests. Getting comfortable, she continued staring up at him, this time with absolute trust.

"I can't stay here all night," he informed her gently. She just stared at him, her eyes piercing into his soul. "I'm going to have to leave, understand?"

After almost a quarter of an hour of sitting in the peaceful silence, Bane tried to sit up slowly, so the girl could slide off his lap. However, she wrapped her thin arms around his neck, refusing to be set down. Standing and now finding himself holding the child, Bane tried to put her back on the bed. She allowed herself to be put down, but then adopted a cross-legged, halfway bent over and hopping dance that needed no translation.

"Ah," Bane said, eyebrows high. He picked up the little girl, intending to put her on the floor so she could walk, but she held tightly to his neck. Not wanting to hurt the girl or strangle himself, Bane just carried her down the hall. He stopped outside the bathroom and gently pryed her arms off of him so he could put her down. He motioned for her to go in, but she just stared up at him silently.

"I can't go in there with you," he told her. "You'll have to do this yourself."

She stared at him without saying anything. Sighing, Bane picked her up again, and took her to the men's room. Fortunately for him, it was empty and she was content to let him stand outside the stall as she did her business. When she was finished, she climbed up the major's legs until he picked her up once more. Resigned, Bane carried her back to her room.

Once more in her bed, she pointed to the empty glass next to it. Understanding what she wanted, he filled it with water from the tap. The girl stood once he had put it down, and wrapped her fragile arms around him again, giving him a quick squeeze. Unprepared, he stiffened, but the girl didn't seem to notice. She plopped back down on her bed and almost immediately went back to sleep, this time peacefully. Bane pulled the sheets up to her chin, then left.

Not knowing quite how he managed it, Bane was back in his own quarters. Shedding his uniform, he lay back in his bed. After a few minutes, he felt the first stages of sleep enter his mind. He surrendered to the inevitable, and relaxed, his dreams plagued with broken memories of the past.

* * *

With a sigh of long-suffering, Trinity leaned against the rought bark of the towering oak tree. She gazed up at the bright green leaves, swaying in the gentle breeze. The breeze brought with it the scent of wildflowers, hinting at an Earthen summer. Strands of her honey blond hair idly passed over her eyes, trailing in the wind.

Her hand moved unconsciously to her stomach. Earlier that day, she had been almost crippled by nausea. It was the third time that week, and the second week in a row it had occurred. Coupled with slight mood swings and tender, swollen breasts, Trinity felt she knew what the nausea was. What she didn't know was exactly how she felt about it.

"Hey, Trin!" a voice called. Shawn climbed up the path to the oak and meadow. "Trin, you up here?"

"Yeah," she replied softly, but loud enough to be heard.

Shawn heard the dark undertone in her voice. "What's wrong?"

"Nothin'," she muttered. Shawn sat down in front of his cousin, his steel blue eyes gazing at her piercingly. Trinity sighed. "I think I'm pregnant."

"Wha-?" he blinked, clearly not expecting her comment. "Y-you are?"

The petite blond nodded.

"But that's _great _news!" Shawn exclaimed, grinning. "I mean, you're gonna be a mother! That's great! Who's the father?"

"Who do you think?" Trinity asked sarcastically, rolling her prussian blue eyes. "Solo is."

"I don't understand," Shawn said in confusion. "Why aren't you happy? I thought, you know, women wanted to be pregnant."

"I don't know what I want, Shawn," Trinity replied with a sigh. "I guess I _am_ happy, but . . . What about the war? I don't wanna bring a child into that. I wanna raise my baby in peace. I don't want it to have to go through the things we do."

"It won't," he told her.

"But-"

"Trust me, Trin, it won't. Solo and I won't let it."

"That's what I'm afraid of," Trinity whispered softly. She gave her cousin a firm look, one that demanded obediance. "Don't tell Solo, okay? I don't want him knowing just yet."

"Why?"

"Please, Shawn?" she begged.

He sighed, then finally nodded. "Yeah, okay."

"Promise?"

"Yeah, I promise, Trin," he replied, feeling as though he had just signed a death warrant.

* * *

"Major," an authoritive voice called. Bane turned and, seeing Colonel Harrison stood and saluted. The colonel walked in the room as if he were marching, and stopped near the computer desk Bane occupied.

"Yes, sir?" he replied in question.

"We have located a rebel base on Earth," he told him. "You and a handful of men will be sent to destroy the base."

Bane remained expressionless, despite the fact the orders confused him. "Just a handful, sir? And why send me when there are plenty of soldiers on Earth?"

"Don't question orders, Major," the colonel warned. "But, just so you know, this is confidential. _No one _is to know about this. Understood?"

"Yes, sir," Bane replied.

"Good," he nodded. "You're to leave within the hour." Colonel Harrison turned to leave, then glanced over his shoulder. "Oh, and Major, one more thing. Bring back prisoners."

"Yes, sir," Bane said automatically, still confused. The taking of prisoners was almost an unspoken order; it was pointless to voice it. He stared at the door for a few heartbeats, then left to find the shuttle that would take he and his men to Earth, hoping that the ones chosen would be competent.

* * *

Looks like troubles brewing on the horizon . . .! But don't you just love the little kid? - Of everyone here, she's my favorite character . . . >.> By the way . . . is it so much trouble to read this thing? I realize it's long (and that it'll get longer, trust me) but couldn't you just spare me a review? I'm BEGGING here::gets on knees: Please, please, PLEASE tell me what you think!


	4. Fragility

I'M BACK! Sorry I couldn't immediately update upon return, my explaination will come at the end of this chapter.

**DISCLAIMOR:** :sighs: I don't own Gundam Wing, or any other copyrighted materials mentioned in this story. Why can't I just put this up once, I don't know . . . I'll have to ask someone who knows more than me.

* * *

Solo stood and streched his muscles, stiff from staying in one position for too long. He took a step back and admired his handy work. The dirt bike was brown with rust, and still in numerous pieces. The back tire was completely deflated and missing several spokes and the front tire was missing completely. Yet pride gleamed in Solo's cobalt blue eyes.

"How's the beast, man?" Shawn asked, strolling in from outside. The garage was only a few degrees cooler than it was outside, but neither seemed to notice.

"Just fine," Solo replied. "Needs some more parts, though."

Shawn looked at the broken down machine. "More than some. A _whole_ lot more than some."

"Shut up," he said, playfully throwing a punch. Shawn dodged it easily.

"What? Can't handle the truth?"

"Come up here an' see if I can," challenged the shorter young man. Shawn tossed a greasy rag at his friend, who caught it deftly. "Well, c'mon!"

"Some other time, alright?" Shawn suggested. He glanced outside, watching sky turn from azure to twilight. "How're things between you and Trinity?"

"Fine," Solo replied, wiping his hands down with the rag. "Why d'you ask?"

The blond man shrugged nonchalantly. "No reason. Just curious."

"She's been kinda depressed about the whole L2 base thing," Solo told him. "But, we all are. It jus' hit her harder than most, I guess."

Shawn nodded, his gaze lingering on the horizon, half-hidden by the steep hill. The crest couldn't be seen, as the roof of the garage was in the way, but he knew that his cousin was still sitting near the tree.

"Wassup?" Solo asked, not entirely convinced his asking of Trinity was merely curiosity.

"Nothing," he replied, shaking his head. He turned back to his friend with a forced grin. "Just thinking."

"Oh, God," the chestnut haired young man groaned. "He's _thinking_! We're in for it now!"

"Shuddup!" Shawn snapped playfully, attempting to put his friend in a headlock. Gunshots and screams stopped them dead. They were still for a heartbeat, then raced out in the fading light, weapons drawn.

* * *

Dressed in nondescript, black clothing, his hair pulled back in a low ponytail, Bane swiftly crept up the hill towards the base. The lights from the base illuminated the night, allowing him to see the thick tree at the crest of the hill, and the silhouette of the young woman sitting beside it.

Behind him, he could hear one of his men cock a tranquilizor gun. A few seconds later, he pulled the trigger. There was a slight hiss of the compressed air propelling the dart and then a hollow _thunk_ when it hit the tree, rather than the young woman. The soldier, Doyle, muttered a curse.

The girl stiffened, hearing the dart hit the tree inches from her head. Bane motioned for his men to drop to the ground, but she had already seen them. Doyle fired another tranquilizor dart, hitting the young woman before she could raise the alarm. She yelped quietly, her body sagging to the ground, leaning soggily against the tree. The soldiers waited a few minutes before Bane allowed them to continue.

Not daring to speak, Bane allowed his glare to reprimand the red haired sergreant, who didn't meet his eyes. Once he reached the crest, Bane knelt beside the young woman and felt for her pulse. It was strong and regular, just as if she were sleeping. He glanced down at the base.

It was set up like a usual neighborhood of Earth, with one-story houses complete with garages. Dirt paths crisscrossed the compound, circling around the "neighborhood" several times. The largest building was a rusted, derelict affair, the glass in its windows long gone. The double doors of the ancient hanger-like building were rusted open, providing little protection against the elements.

Despite the neighborhood setting, however, there were no children or adults over thirty-five. The population seemed to consist of a single generation of youth, ranging in ages eighteen to twenty-seven. The oldest man couldn't have been more than thirty-five.

"Remember," Bane hissed in the microphone near his mouth, "we need prisoners."

The soldiers replied affirmatively, and began to sneak around the perimeter. Bane remained where he was to see what was going on in the "neighborhood." It intrigued, and confused him that his superiors felt threatened by such a tiny base. Shaking himself free of such thoughts, he focused on his orders.

"Is everyone in position?" he asked.

"Yes, sir," Doyle replied. Bane could hear him cocking his gun over the radio.

"Fire at will."

Gunshots rang through the air almost immediately followed by screams.

* * *

"Goddamnit!" Solo screamed, tossing the jammed gun to the ground. He snatched another out of his holster, firing at the shadows. The young man could hear the screams of injured people, but he no longer knew whether or not they belonged to his friends or his enemies. He ducked behind an empty, rusted fuel barrel, surprised to find Shawn also using the fuel barrels for cover.

"Did you find Trinity?" he asked, shouting over the gunshots and screams.

"She's up at the oak!" Shawn shouted back. He shot into a shadow, and was rewarded with a scream of agony. "Go! I'll cover you!"

Clenching his jaw against the adrenaline pumping through his bloodstream, Solo made his way to the dirt path, ducking behind buildings, crates, and barrels to evade the bullets. Suddenly, the electricity went out. Momentarily blinded, Solo fell in a prone position until his eyes got accostomed to the darkness.

"God, I'm hit!" screamed a man somewhere to Solo's left. "I'm hit!"

Another gunshot silenced him forever. Relying on memory and instinct, Solo lept to his feet and raced to the path. He felt his boots hit rocks and things that were too soft to be rocks, but just as dead. Just as he reached the crest of the hill, he regained his vision.

Trinity lay motionless against the old oak, her eyes closed. Kneeling next to her was a black clothed, black haired man. He was peering into the darkness at Solo, but he could tell the man couldn't yet see him clearly quite yet. However, the chestnut haired young man was in shock at seeing his lover appearing to be dead, and couldn't react before the man. They raised their guns at each other the same instant.

"Drop you weapon!" the man ordered coldly.

"You drop yours, asshole!" Solo screamed in reply. "You call off your friends and I _might _let you live a bit longer."

"Empty threats won't get you anywhere," the man told him. "Now, drop your weapon."

"Go fuck yourself!" Solo snarled, ducking to the right as he fired. The man didn't flinch as bullets lodged themselves into the tree, splittering the bark and cutting into his cheek. He fired once, than twice.

Solo cried out in surprise as he felt the projectile rip into his flesh. Grabbing his right shoulder and dropping his gun, he sunk to the ground. Black dots danced at the edges of his vision as pain crashed down on him. He tilted back, but didn't feel himself hit the ground.

* * *

Bane stared down at the body of the young man, his skin pale from shock and loss of blood. He had already checked his pulse, finding it faint. The young man would not last without medical attention. Bane turned his gaze from the wounded man to the sleeping woman.

"Major," Doyle said, trotting up the path towards him. "The base is destroyed, sir."

"How many prisoners?" he asked, an unidentifiable edge to his voice.

"Nine, sir, including her," Doyle replied. "Seven men, two women. All of them in their twenties."

"Any casualties?"

"Two of our men are injured, sir. Corporal Devons will probably need surgery once we get back."

Bane nodded, letting it soak in. "Get everyone on the shuttle. We don't want to be here when their reinforcements arrive."

"Yes, sir!" Doyle saluted, turning to do as ordered. Bane glanced back down at the rebels' tiny base. The buildings burned with the bodies inside, erasing the evidence of the attack. All that would be left were ashes, nothing to signify that it was once a human settlement. All according to his orders.

The major lifted the petite, blond woman and carried her to the shuttle, leaving the man behind.

* * *

Shawn and a handful of others staggered out of the woods once the shuttle took off. He stared in shock at what was left of his home, burning to ash and cinder. A sense of emptiness filled the survivors. Shawn pulled ahead, unable to believe what he was seeing.

"Trin!" he yelled, hoping to hear her sunny voice reply. "Trin! Trinity!"

The other survivors, three in all, began calling the names of their loved ones as well. Shawn raced up the hill's steep path, not daring to hope, but unable to contain it. He stopped dead in his tracks. He saw the tree, but it was scarred with bullet holes. He saw Solo, lying at an angle, bleeding from his shoulder. He didn't see Trinity, or any sign of her.

"Solo?" he muttered, kneeling at his best friend's side. "Solo, speak to me, man. C'mon . . ."

With a shaking hand, he gently felt for his friend's pulse. Relief shot through him when he found it, yet it was still weak. Clenching his teeth, the young, blond man removed his wife beater shirt, unsheathed his knife, and cut the shirt into strips. Carefully removing Solo's shirt and vest, being mindful of his wound, Shawn wrapped the strips of black cloth around the wound as best as he could. He pressed down on it with both hands to stop the bleeding, and prayed it would be enough.

* * *

:evil, villianous laughter: Bane's not such a nice guy, is he? FYI, this chapter is one of the reasons one of my friends now, officiall, hates Bane Marquise. Don't worry, he'll redeem himself . . . maybe. :grins evilly:

Okay, folks. I was unable to post a chapter the Friday before I left, sorry about that. And my brother was moving the day I got back from VA, so I couldn't update then, either. Well, when I finally got back home, I was too tired to do much of anything, so basically, I slept all of Monday. But I'm updating now, and just for your reading pleasure, I'm posting another chapter:celebrates:

**Tsukikyo no Yume - **Thanks for your awesome reviews! I nearly wept for joy when I read them! That sounds to be the basic plot so far, but it'll go under some . . . rennovations, lol. And since you've complimented my grammer and such, I must confess . . . I wrote all of this on a program that does not use a spell check or a grammar check, so if you spot any mistakes, let me know!

**gabrieldarke - **AHHH! Yes, you scared me:adopts threatening posture: lol Anyways, glad you liked it so well!

**goodbyegirl - **:wipes away tear: I'm so glad you liked this chapter. And about the misspelled word . . . I don't have a spellcheck, so I'm relying on myself and other people to correct me . . .:sighs: Well, have fun in Russia! Stay outta trouble, and if you can't, don't get caught:winks:

**Rhiw - **I can't thank you people enough for the reviews! I really can't. They make me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Bane's my favorite character, too . . . Which is kinda obvious, I guess . . . :sighs: Anyways, glad to be original! I got tired of all the cliche stories, so . . . Yeah.


	5. Broken Dreams

Here's the next chapter! Enjoy!

**DISCLAIMOR: **I still don't own Gundam Wing. I'm entering negotiations with the true owners, but it doesn't look so good for the home team . . . :sighs:

**A/N: **This chapter contains explicit, adult situations. For the sake of the story, I won't go into detail right now, but I'm giving you a fair warning.

* * *

No one noticed the sunrise that morning, or the way the rays from the sun cut through the clouds on the horizon. Turning first purple, than pink, the sun slowly began its ascent into the sky. The black night turned grey, lightening as the dawn went on. The stars paled, then eventually disappeared, making way for another light to shine. The birth of the new day went unnoticed.

Shawn eased his worn body agaisnt the bullet-scarred oak, staring up at the tree's leaves, watching the sunlight light them up one by one. His friend, Solo, lay on level ground nearest the fire. His bandages had been replaced, and, despite his condition, it was a good chance that he'd live. Shawn looked around the motely camp, noting the few survivors.

They had found two others, each wounded. One was the doctor, which was why the badly wounded rebels weren't yet dead. He had twisted his ankle when the fighting started, and managed to crawl into the forest before their attackers could enter their base. The other was less fortunate. Like Solo, she had been shot. Her thigh was heavily bandaged, yet blood still seeped through in spots.

Anguish and hopelessness set in. Shawn had not found his cousin and only surviving family member, but instead found signs that she had been taken captive. The doctor and the woman, Karen Westly, said that they had seen the attackers carrying several people away. However, they didn't know if Trinity had been among those taken, or even how many had been taken.

"I can't believe it," muttered one of the survivors, Gregory Tripe. "One minute, life's normal an' stuff, and the next . . ."

Dr. Allen Hollister sighed in agreement, but said nothing. There was much to say, but the survivors were unwilling to talk, as if they were still hoping to awaken and find it a horrible nightmare. Karen shifted stiffly, her face paling from the pain.

"Why?" Shawn finally asked, not able to stand the silence any more. "Why did they attack us?"

They didn't know how to answer the question; each had thought the same question at least once during the night. Anger coursed through the young, blond man's body.

"Goddamnit, why!" he shouted, getting to his feet. "What the fuck did we ever do to them! We aren't a threat to them, we never were! WHAT THE HELL GIVES THEM THE RIGHT TO DO THIS TO US!"

Shawn looked as though he'd say more, but Solo stirring seemed to bring his anger back down. The taller man immediately knelt beside his friend, a burning hope filling his eyes. Slowly, Solo began to come around. His handsome features twisted, reflecting some inner pain. His cobalt blue eyes snapped open.

"Where's Trin?" he asked hoarsely. Shawn bit his lip, and turned away, unable to answer. "Where is she?"

Dr. Hollister cleared his throat. "We . . . We don't know."

"What do you mean?" he demanded hotly.

"We were kinda hoping you'd be able to tell us," Shawn finally said, looking at him with a closed, empty expression.

"I saw her," Solo told him with a pained expression. "But she looked . . . she looked d-dead."

"Tranquilizors," Karen supplied. "They used tranqs on a buncha people to keep 'em quiet so they wouldn't make any fuss on the shuttle."

Solo nodded, accepting her explanation, because the alternative was more than he could bear. "_He_ was there, too."

"Who?" Tripe asked, biting his lip.

"Marquise. He wasn't in an Allies' uniform, but it was him."

"Son of a bitch," Shawn muttered. He whirled around, punching the oak as hard as he could. "SONOFABITCH!"

The blond haired young man got to his feet and stormed off. None of the other survivors tried to stop him. A few moments later, a tortured scream cut through the air.

Tears pricked Solo's eyes, but didn't fall.

* * *

She felt as though she were swimming in molasses. Little by little, consciousness came back to her. At first, she heard little sounds, the rustling of fabric rubbing together or the sniffling of someone crying, then she could hear voices. They floated above her, making her feel like she was underwater.

"C'mon, Trin, you can make it," a familiar, masculine voice urged. "Come back to us, Trin."

"Lemme sleep in, Solo," she grumbled, rolling over. Her heart lept in her throat when she found that the edge of her bed was much closer than she remembered. Grasping for anything to slow her fall, Trinity slid to the hard, cold floor, her prussian blue eyes wide open in fright.

The room was not dark, but the lights were dim. It was big, large enough for three or more people to share comfortably. Five cots lined each wall, though, and it looked as though all but one had been used. Trinity stood shakily, staring at six of her friends in confusion.

"Wh-what happened?" she asked, stammering in confusion and fear. "Where are we?"

"We were ca'tured by the Allies' Army," Victor Crane told her, his words oddly muffled and slurred. Looking closer, Trinity realized his lips were swollen. One eye was almost swollen shut. She looked at the others for answer, and saw that many sported similar injuries.

Seeing her apparent confusion, Daniel Edwards spoke up. "They've been takin' us one at a time, jus' beatin' the shit outta us. Not even askin' us questions."

"God," breathed Trinity in horror. "How could they?"

"They're animals," Victor said angrily. "Fuckin' lowlives."

"God," she repeated. "Oh, God. Where are the others? What happened to Solo? Shawn?"

"Dunno," Daniel whispered. "The bastards who . . . who did this to us said that we were the only survivors."

Unable to speak, Trinity sank down to the bed. She tried to talk, but she only managed to open and close her mouth. She wanted to tell them that they were wrong, that her lover and cousin were still alive, but she couldn't find the words. Her hand fell to her stomach.

The door suddenly opened, and two greasy-looking, Allies' Army soldiers walked in, supporting a tiny waif of a girl. They tossed her to the floor, and glowered at their prisoners. The battered and bruised girl started to cry, but they didn't notice. Their gaze fell on Trinity, who was still too much in shock to even care if they came in or not.

"Whadda you want," Daniel sneered, stepping between them and Trinity.

The dark haired soldier backhanded him. "Shuddup, faggit!"

"I see the other bitch's up," his companion said. "We'll need ta talk ta her next."

"She jus' got u'," Victor told them. "Leave're alone."

"You wanna 'nother black eye, pretty boy?" growled the soldier menacingly. "You, bitch, get yer ass o'er here!"

Trinity looked up at them, trying to comprehend what was going on. Her gaze fell on the girl. Her clothes were rumpled and ripped, and her face and arms were covered with bruises. The way she was sitting told the entire story.

"'Ey!" shouted the dark haired soldier, stalking up to the petite blond. "I'm talkin' to you, fuckin' whore!"

She pulled away from him. "Don't you touch me!"

"Fiesty one, aincha?" he crowed. His companioin started to walk up to her as well, but three of the men stood in his way. He backhanded one, then drew his handgun.

"Back off," the soldier growled. The other grabbed Trinity's arm tightly, and pulled her towards him. Both glaring at the other battered prisoners, they backed out of the room, nearly dragging the petite blond with them.

Slamming the door shut, then locking it, they started down the hall, both gripping her arms so tightly she knew she was going to have bruises. Their pace was quick, so quick, Trinity was having a hard time keeping up with them. She tried to twist out of their grip, but it was pointless.

"I can walk, you know," she told them.

"Shut yer mouth, girlie," snarled one. "You don' speak 'til you're spoken to, got it, bitch?"

Hurling a thousand and one expletives their way in her mind, Trinity held her tongue in check. She didn't want to be beaten just yet, but she knew what the soldiers were planning. A plan was forming in her mind when they stopped at a windowless door. Knocking a familiar beat, the waited to be let in.

The door was opened by an equally greasy-looking soldier. His leering grin sickened the blond, and she tried to pull away from her jailors yet again. Her captors only tightened their grip, though. The two soldiers stepped in the room, which was barely enough to fit them all, including the fourth in the back, dragging Trinity behind them. She tried everything to get away, but they merely laughed at her attempts. Finally, one backhanded her. The blow sent her to the floor, seeing stars.

One of the soldiers in the room picked her up by her hair, holding her face close to his. She could smell the stale alcohol on his foul breath. "We're gonna show you what happens to rebel bitches."

Trinity spat at his face. "Go fuck a dog, you bastard!"

He threw her across the room, cursing and swearing. He went after her, but one of his companions stopped him.

"Let's take our time with her, eh?" he suggested. "The security room's gonna be empty for two more hours."

"Alright," he spat, glaring at Trinity. Panic set in and she made a mad dash for the door, a scream in her throat. However, one of the soldiers blocked her path and punched her in the stomach to silence her. Trinity collasped to the ground, gasping for air. A boot, whose she didn't know, came out of nowhere, and smashed into her ribs. Another boot landed on her shoulder, forcing her in a prone position. She tried to stand, or at the very least get to her knees, but a hand grabbed her hair and pulled her up.

"You better last, you fuckin' whore," snarled the dark haired soldier. He drew back his fist and slammed it across her face. Blood erupted from her nose, spilling down to her shirt. She was shoved to another soldier, who blackened her eye with a fist. The next forcefully kissed her, bruising her mouth. The abuse went on for what seemed like hours, but in reality it couldn't have been more than a couple of minutes.

Trinity was shoved on a chair, and a groan escaped her bleeding lips. Something warm and wet was shoved into her mouth, and a rope was pulled across it, gagging her. Awakened by this new motion, Trinity knew exactly what it was for, and who it was last used on. She bucked against the chair, kicking and flailing her fists wildly, screaming against the gag. A crushing force in her diaphragm made the edges of her vision blacken. By the time she could breath again, she was already being held down.

Rough hands fondled her breasts, bruising them. They forced her top up, already having torn her overshirt off. The fabric was ripped in two, and fluttered to the floor. Humiliation burned in Trinity, but try as she might, she could not get free. The hands moved lower, unfastening her pants and tearing them off, forcing her underwear to her ankles. Savage fingers forced themselves into her; damaging parts of her that she had, until just recently, thought untouchable by all but Solo. Teeth bit down on her exposed nipple, almost breaking the skin in their savagry.

She continued to struggle, trying to scream against the gag. Tears of shame, anger, and pain rolled down her reddened, swelling cheeks. At the edge of her paniked vision, she saw one of the soldiers fumbling with his belt and zipper. A barbaric man held each leg, forcing her wide open, and one held her arms above her head.

Hopeless despair filled her, and Trinity longed for death.

* * *

Eek . . . Sorry about that, folks. Not only to I do something terrible to Trinity, but I leave it off on a cliffhanger . . . I'll have the next chapter posted sometime next week or so. And just for the record, I'm so against rape, it's not even funny. But just so you know, the soldiersget it in the end . . . 


	6. Retaliation and Skepticism

O.O I'M SORRY::bows & grovels: It's been soooo long since I last updated! And I left off at a cliff-hanger, too! Will you ever forgive me, my beloved readers::bows:

:clears throat: Now for an explaination of my actions. At first, I was just waiting for reviews. I'm up to thirteen::cheers: That's the most I've EVER had for my stories! And they're all favorable::wipes away tears: Then I started getting busy, and I forgot all about updating! 0.0 Now that I'm part of the working class (aka, Ashe has a job) I might not be able to update as much as I'd like.

Anyways, sorry this chapter's a little slower than they have been, and probably a bit more boring. But it's good for characterization. And I wanted to let everyone know that Trinity won't just hop right back up from her ordeal. Real people just don't do things like that. And I wanted to put Bane back in good standing. Some who've read this still dislike Bane intensely, but they feel better about him . . . Well, if they don't, they soon will! Oooh, I'm so evil!

**DISCLAIMOR:** Why do I have to keep putting these thingies up? Shouldn't it be obvious that I don't own Gundam Wing? I mean, am I rich? No, that's why I have to work. And if I owned Gundam Wing, you can bet your britches that I would've killed off more than just Treize::evil laughter: So, don't own Gundam Wing. I have the series in manga form, but that's about it . . .

**NOTICE:** This chapter contains violence and a bit of gore. It should just be in the first part, so if that kind of stuff disturbs you, just kinda skip over it. Also, the scene with Trinity is continued, so you are forewarned! Sorry, but these things kinda had to be done. You'll figure it out later on. ;)

* * *

Bane swore loudly and colorfully. His rage rose as he raced down the hall to the small room at a dead run. He removed his gun from its holster, holding it ready. The room was far enough away that Bane wondered if he'd make it in time.

When he had awoken, exercised, and eaten, he had asked about the prisoners. Sergeant Doyle hadn't yet had time to interrogate them, but several of the soldiers had claimed to see several of the prisoners being escorted to the interrogation room by two other men. Suspicious, Bane had gone to the security room to ask the soldier what he had seen, and found him missing. Once glance at the monitor had told the major everything he needed to know.

Finally arriving at the door, he found it locked. Making use of his gun, he forcefully separated the door from doorknob and kicked it in. The young, blond woman had been forced to the floor naked, three soldiers holding her down. The fourth was bent over, his pants to his knees. Livid bruises were all over the young woman's body.

Bane's first shot caught the fourth soldier in his erect organ, his second pierced the man's knee, and the third and fourth caught him in his elbow and stomach. Screeching in pain, the soldier collasped to the floor, bleeding profusely. Training his gun on another soldier, he prepared to fire once more. Sergeant Doyle came seconds later, his gun on the offending soldiers. The men let go of the young woman, who seemed to be barely holding on to consciousness, and stepped away, avoiding looking at their bleeding companion.

"Get a doctor, now!" Bane shouted, his steel blue eyes glinting in murderous promise. Within seconds, doctors and nurses were inside the room, and the military police had come to arrest the men.

Seeing that everything was being taken care of, Bane holstered his gun and stalked to Colonel Harrison's office, knowing he would want to see him.

* * *

"Am I to understand that you're condoning their actions!" Bane demanded angrily, then he added, "Sir."

Harrison looked about nervously. "I'm not saying that what they were about to do was right, but don't you think you were-"

"I did what I had to do, Colonel," Bane told him firmly, making the title an insult. His platinum black hair fell in front of his steely eyes, making him look more than capable of mass homicide. Before Bane could continue, a private knocked on the door. Grateful for the opportunity to get out from under Bane's glare, Harrison answered the door. The private handed him a tape, and whispered something, glancing at the enraged major. The colonel nodded, and waved him away. He turned to the major, his skin noticably paler and a paniky look in his eye.

"There's been some, uh, new evidence brought to me," he said with false confidence. Bane continued to glare at him, and Colonel Harrison shoved the tape in the VCR and pushed play then fast-foreward. "Now, don't get excited, Major . . ."

The black and white footage depicted the same four men beating the male prisoners. The scenes went by quickly, fortunately. Then the soldiers brought in the other woman from the base. They beat her, like they did the other prisoners, then preceded to rape her. The colonel quickly shut off the television, wiping the sweat from his brow.

An eerie calm came over Bane's features. "Do something about this, Colonel."

"Major Marquise, these things have to be handled delicately-"

Bane shoved Harrison against the wall, a nine-inch knife appearing in his hand. There was no emotion in his eyes or voice. "Do something . . . or I will."

The door slammed open, and General Bunt stormed in. "Major! That will be all!"

The platinum black haired man slowly pulled away from Harrison. His expression was no less frightening, but the knife had once again disappeared. He turned to the general, and snapped a salute.

"You're dismissed," the general, making it an order. Bane turned on his heel, and left the colonel's office.

* * *

She didn't realize where she was at first, but the memory of the attack quickly brought her back to reality. Tears of shame trickled down her face. Her hand went to her stomach reflexively, and she wondered if any damage had been done to her unborn child. Suddenly, her hand clenched into a fist. She bit her lip, and wasn't at all surprised when she tasted blood.

A stiffled sob caught her attention, and she glanced to the bed beside her, where a tiny, toothpick thin girl sat. Her curly, golden hair was tousled from a nap, and her ice blue eyes stared at Trinity in curiosity and timidity. She wore a white nightgown that went to her thin ankles, and made her look cherubic, if not for the unshed tears that shone in her almost too-big eyes.

"Hi," Trinity greeted with a forced, friendly smile, sitting up painfully. The girl stared at her. "What's your name?"

"She doesn't have one," a kind tenor replied from the doorway. He was short, possibly shorter than Trinity, and had flaming red hair that seemed to stick up on all sides. His freckles made him look twelve, but his deep brown eyes held a soul far too old for the youthful face.

"Who're you?" Trinity asked, noting that he was wearing the Allies' Army's navy blue and black uniform.

The man walked in. "Sergeant Marvin Doyle. But you can call me Doyle, even Sergeant. Anything but Marvin."

Trinity didn't smile, but she saw that the girl had welcomed the soldier with an enthustiastic wave. "What do you want?"

"Just some basic information," he told her, waving a clipboard. He sat down between their beds. "So, what's your name?"

"Why don't you ask the other prisoners?" she countered stubbornly.

He raised his pale eyebrows. "Given the circumstances, I don't think they'd tell someone like me anything that didn't strictly pertain to themselves. Besides, this is just for the doctors."

"If it's for the doctors, why do _they_ need to know my name?"

"Well, what do you want to be called then? Blondie?"

The little girl grinned as if that were the best joke she'd ever heard.

"Trinity," she told him finally. He looked at her expectingly. "No last name."

"Okay," he said, writing it down. "Date of birth?"

"Just put down that I'm over eighteen."

"Any allergies that we need to know about, like medications, latex, cotton . . ."

"Cotton?" Trinity asked, unable to help herself. She had never heard of someone with a cotton allergy.

"Yeah, cotton," Doyle said somewhat miffed. "I had a fourth cousin, thrice removed on my father's mother's side that was allergic to cotton."

It took Trinity a few moments to realize he was joking. "I'm not allergic to anything but Allies' Army soldiers."

"Well, then I guess we'll have to give you an allergy shot," he told her matter-of-factly. "Have you had any problems with addictions in the past?"

"Only addicted to freedom."

"Okay, fair enough. Any tattoos or body piercings?"

She rolled her prussian blue eyes. "Yeah, I have my eyebrow pierced and a big ol' ogre tattooed on my butt."

"Really?" he asked in polite interest, writing down negatives; at least she hoped they were negatives answers. "Hmm, any diseases or illnesses?"

"Yeah, I'm hungry."

"I'll get you some food in a bit," he told her. "Okay, last question. I take it you've never been pregnant or nursing?"

Trinity bit her lip, hard. "I . . . I th-think I might s-still . . ."

"I'll tell the doctor than," he said understandingly. He stood and turned to leave, then stopped, looking at her with his soulful brown eyes. "I'm sorry as hell for what happened, Trinity. It's not supposed to be like this."

He left, leaving Trinity staring up at the ceiling with only a nameless girl for company.

* * *

Solo stood on the hill, looking over the remains of his home. Behind him, he could hear the large shuttle landing. The wind kicked up from the landing, further tangling his shoulder length locks. He heard the shuttle door hiss open almost as soon as it touched down on the ground.

"Solo!" a woman's voice yelled. He turned to see his twin sister racing towards him. Her waist length, chestnut brown hair flew behind her, woven in a single plaited braid. She stopped short of colliding with her twin, her violet eyes unable to hide her worry. After a few heartbeats of her looking over him, making sure his shoulder was the only injury he had, she threw her arms around him, mindful of both his wound and her round belly.

"God, I was so worried!" she whispered fiercely. She pulled away and looked him in his eyes.

"You shouldn't have come, Helen," Solo scolded mechanically. "Space travel's rough on the baby."

"And miss the chance to find out first hand that my brother's alright?" she replied incredulously.

Marcus Winner, Helen's husband, was the next out of the shuttle. He strode purposefully towards his wife and Solo, an expression of sympathy on his handsome face. His sea green eyes fell on Solo's right arm, resting in a sling, and went back to his face. As he approached, he ran a nervous hand through his platinum gold hair.

"Where's everyone else?" he asked.

"They'll be here shortly," Solo replied. "They're holdin' a funeral service for everyone who . . . didn't make it."

Marcus nodded understandingly, but said nothing. What was there to say? After a few minutes, he said mildly, as if commenting on the weather, "You said you knew who was behind the attack."

"It was Marquise," Solo told him. His jaw clenched tightly.

"I don't understand," Helen said, her brow furrowed. "Isn't he stationed in space?"

"That's what I thought," Marcus agreed.

"I saw him," Solo growled, glaring at his sister and friend. "You think I didn't?"

"I didn't say that," Helen replied, holding her hands up. "All I'm sayin' is that it's weird. I mean, why did they send Marquise all that way just to destroy some puny little wannabe-base in the middle of nowhere? It doesn't make sense."

"He was there," Solo told them firmly. "I don't know why, I just know that I saw him."

"Solo, we aren't saying you didn't see him," Marcus began, but the survivors started up the hill. Shawn, helping Karen, was the first to reach them.

"Let's get the hell outta here," he said, his expression oddly closed.

Marcus nodded. "Alright. We should have plenty of room on the ship for everyone."

"I would rather be cramped than have plenty o' room," Karen muttered as she shifted her weight. Dr. Hollister and Tripe were next, followed by the others. Marcus led them to the shuttle, helping them inside.

Solo forced himself to take one last look at the charred remains below, and left for the shuttle.

* * *

Bane attacked the punching bag in another round of frenzied blows. Sweat beaded on his forehead and ran down his face, but he took no notice of it. His steel blue eyes were on the object swaying in front of him. He finished with a powerful kick that made the bag swing back for several feet. With a deep breath, Bane stepped back to allow himself to calm down and to let the bag stop its movement.

General Townsend walked in, his jet black, thinning hair contrasting horribly with his snowy white mustache. "You're lucky Colonel Harrison won't be pressing charges, Major."

"That's because he's afraid of me," Bane replied, wiping the persperation from his handsome face. If the general was insulted or surprised by his relaxed manner, he didn't show it.

"Indeed he is," Townsend laughed. "But I'm afraid it took some persuading on my part to make sure he didn't try to transfer you to another base, far away from himself."

"I take it he's put in for a transfer himself, then?" asked the young man. He toweled his platinum black locks dry.

"Yes, but it will be denied," the general told him. "Right now, he's far too important here for us to just let him leave."

Bane turned to Townsend, not bothering to hide his anger. "He tried to protect those - those animals. I don't see why the Allies' Army doesn't try him right along side those bastards."

"I understand your anger, Major," the general said. "But right now, he's just too important. However, when all this blows over, I assure you Harrison _will_ be dealt with harshly."

The younger man nodded, but said nothing. He grabbed the water bottle and drank eagerly. The general noted that he seemed more worn than ususal, his skin seeming pale against the black of his uniform pants and undershirt. Townsend frowned slightly, thinking.

"I hear you're not sleeping," he commented, looking at Bane closely for a reaction. The young man nodded, and glanced away. He looked back at the older man with an unreadable expression.

"I'm beginning to remember," he replied softly. Townsend stepped up to him, and clasped him on the shoulder affectionately.

"Don't fight it," he told him with a fatherly smile.

"I'm remembering things," Bane continued, his brow furrowing. "Very distubring things."

"Don't fight it," the general reiterated. He stepped away, knowing the younger man needed space. Bane looked at him again.

"There's something I don't understand."

"Go on."

"Why," he began, the stopped, searching for a way to put his confusion into words. "How was the base as threat? There couldn't possibly have been anything there."

Townsend bowed his head and clasped his hands behind his back. As he paced, he spoke. "Three children of the Gundam pilots were stationed there, which is why we wanted prisoners. You _are_ familiar with the Gundam pilots, aren't you?"

"Yes, sir."

"Being the children of the Gundam pilots, we hoped that they would have infinitely more information than most other rebels," he said. He waved his hand, as if waving away the topic. "But, I'm not here to talk about that."

Bane waited quietly, searching the general's lined face. He was surprised to find something akin to sorrow on it.

"We've had to schedule your exam a full month in advance," Townsend told him.

"I see," Bane nodded, wondering why this would cause the general distress. "Because I'm remembering more?"

The older man glanced at him in shock, but it melted away. "Yes. Perhaps the treatment can further your memory."

"Perhaps," Bane agreed, though he had little hope it would do so. He had been undergoing the treatment every three months for two years, and had little improvement.

"I can see you have lost faith," Townsend said with amusement. "Don't. The treatment will help. Your memory will return."

"You've been saying that for two years now, General," Bane told him, turning away. "It's hard to keep faith."

"I'm sure that once this treatment's over, you'll feel differently," he replied, walking out of the exercise room. Bane shook his head and sighed, clearly not believing what General Townsend was saying.

* * *

See? Now don't you feel bad for poor Bane? No? Well . . . That's okay! 'Cause I don't expect you to! I hope all of you forgive me (and Bane) eventually::hands out brownies, because she doesn't have cookies handy:

Reviewers::is very, very happy:

**gabrieldarke** - I know it was mean. But it had to happen! Glad you liked it, and hope you like this updated version, too!

**GavindaDai** - I hope I got your name right . . . Anyways, thanks for reviewing for ALL of the chapters! I was just expecting one review! lol Anyways . . . Nope, Solo's still very much important in the plot. I won't kill him . . . yet. Okay, okay! I dunno if I'll kill him at all! I'm having issues with too many surviving peoples! You know how I am, I like to make everything as angsty and miserable as possible . . . :)

**The One and Only Me!** - lmao I know who you are! I know where you live! I saw you as you typed this up! Do not think that you can hide from me so easily::sighs: You know I don't have much time to write anymore. What with hanging out with you and Donlad, and working . . . I have a full schedule now. :( I'm not sure I like it very much . . .


	7. Sweet Child of Mine

**Disclaimor:** Nothing has changed in my finacial status, however sad that makes me. I do have a job now, so maybe if I save up my money, I can buy the series on DVD! But I doubt that buy working as a bag boy/girl/person, I will ever make enough money to buy the rights of Gundam Wing. :leaves with tears in eyes:

**A/N:** I'm bored, and I have spare time. Also, as you can all see, I have changed the title and summary, so they sound better (I hope.) Tell me what you think. And if any of you have any (serious) suggestions, I'm willing to hear them out!

* * *

Trinity couldn't stay in the hospital room any longer. Quietly, so as not to awaken the small child, the young woman donned a white robe and slippers. She left the room, leaving the door cracked behind her. As she trotted down the hall, the tears came.

They fell silently, but sobs threatened in her throat. She tried to bite her lip to keep them at bay, and winced. Trinity then realized that she had already bitten through her lip during her attack, then promptly buried that realization. Instead, she clenched her teeth, making her jaw muscles ache in the force in which she did so. The petite blond continued down the corridor.

As she rounded a corner, she saw a dark figure standing near one of the large windows to space. She stopped in her tracks, and whirled around the corner again, pressing herself against the wall. When it was apparent that the figure hadn't seen her, she peeked around at him.

He stood alone, leaning against the window, his forehead pressed against it. He was dressed in the black pants of an Allies' Army soldier, and wearing the black undershirt, but other than that, he was out of uniform. His long platinum black hair hung around his face, so Trinity couldn't see his expression first hand, but she could see his reflection. He stared through the pane and into the space beyond, his expression lost and confused. He seemed to be searching for something, but the young woman couldn't see what.

Trinity stepped into the corridor, a question forming on her lips, but her voice never made a sound. His attitude of lonliness was so palpable, it made her want to cry out. For an instant, she felt a kinship with him. Hearing something behind her, Trinity ducked in a dark room behind her, praying it wasn't in use.

The slap of footsteps told the young woman it was the girl. She ran around the corner, her blond curls bouncing around her cherubic face, scrunched in a stormy expressoin. She broke into a joyous grin at seeing the man, and ran straight towards him. The man turned to the girl, no tangible expression on his face. He bent down to greet her, and she threw her arms around his neck. Apparently, this was not his first time meeting the girl under such circumstances, given their familiarity.

He walked silently down the hall, carrying the child in his arms. Trinity still couldn't see his face because of his long hair, but she couldn't shake the feeling that she knew him somehow. She ducked further into the room as he passed, thankful that there was no one else inside.

Once he passed she looked around, and found the room to be empty and dark. The bed had been stripped of sheets, and thoroughly cleaned. However, on the bedside table resided a dying plant. Underneath the pot was a faded, dog-eared photograph. It was of a young, Allies' Army soldier and a small boy in his arms, their resemblance close enough for her to guess they were related. The room had belonged to the soldier, and from the way it was empty and the memories left behind, he was dead.

A profound feeling of isolation washed over her. The sheer weight of her lonliness forced her down. Wrapping her arms around herself, seeking comfort, Trinity fought the tears that fell. A silent sob escaped, followed by another. Her expression melted into a mask of anguish. Trinity cried herself to sleep that night, as she had done every night since her capture, and awoke the next morning in her bed, with no memory as to how she got there.

* * *

"You realize the consequences of your decision, General?" an ancient man with snowy white, shoulder length hair said, his voice cracking with age. He stared at Townsend with his beady, milky blue eyes, his expression stern.

Sighing, Townsend nodded. "I know the consequences, Doctor. You don't need to remind me."

"And still, you're going through with it?" the scientist asked, smoothing his white lab coat. "You're a sentimental fool, General. Even I know-"

"It is my decision, Doctor," interrupted the general in a dangerous growl. With a glare, the ancient man of science shuffled out of Townsend's office. Running a hand through his dyed-black hair, Townsend absently wondered if the scientist was right.

* * *

Shawn was drunk, blissfully, numbingly drunk. He was sober enough, however, that he knew it wasn't wise for him to stand on the lip of the building, but inebriated enough to not care. He had not yet acheived the state of embarrassing himself, or being unable to speak clearly, but the day was still young. The wind blew his platinum gold locks around, slightly tugging at his pants.

Upon reaching the Colony, Shawn had immediately found a liquor store and proceeded to get as drunk as possible as fast as possible, for as long as possible. He idly wondered, in the back of his mind, where his logic had yet to be much affected by the alcohol, if he were turning into an alcoholic. The young, blond man pushed away the fragment of thought, and took another deep drink from the liquor bottle in his hand.

"If your going to be drunk, at least stay away from the edge," a feminine voice chided. Shawn slowly turned toward the voice, squinting to make out her features. Helen walked closer, the breeze making the loose strands of her hair fly about.

"Since when are you my boss?" he slurred, his voice fuzzy from the liquor.

The young, pregnant woman sat on the ledge. "Since you started tipping the bottle. Solo's worried about you, you know?"

He didn't say anything, but took another drink. Helen studied his face for reaction. Her cobolt blue eyes, much like Solo's, were quick to find traces of grief, anger, and guilt, despire his inebriated state. Beneath the numbing effecs of the alcohol, she detected traces of all three. She frowned worriedly.

"What's wrong, Shawn?" she asked somewhat bluntly. "It's not like you to do this."

"Trin's gone," he answered, gesturing haphazardly to the Colonial sky with the bottle. His steel blue eyes gazed out to the horizon.

"There something else bothering you, isn't there?"

He gave her a very fake, very forced smile. "Now why would you think that?"

"How could I _not_?" Helen replied, wincing ever so slighty at the obvious pain behind his smile. "Even with all that's gone on, you'd never do something like this. Everyone's worried . . ."

"What do they know!" he snarled angrily. Helen was a bit taken aback at his sudden change. "What the _fuck_ do they know! That fuckin' Bane's taken everything away from me!" His voice cracked slightly on "everything." "I got no _family_ thanks to that bastard, no _home_, no _nothing_! What the _fuck _do they know about it!"

"There's _more_ than that," Helen insisted in a more subdued tone. "You can't blame all of this on Bane."

"Fuck off an' lemme alone, Helen."

Shock and hurt shot through the young woman. She rose slowly to her feet. "Very well. I'll see you later, Shawn."

The blond, young man kept his back turned, staring at the horizon, and drinking heavily from the bottle. He didn't see Helen walk away, nor would he have cared if he did. Shawn was far too angry and drunk to care if he hurt one of his few remaining friends. Absently, he wondered if he would have enough courage to jump from the building if he drank enough. On that thought, he tipped the bottle back, and gulped down the entire contents.

* * *

"Stormie! Stormie, get back here!"

The tiny, cherubic girl rescued from death on the L2 Colony ran down the hall, her face set in an expression that she had been named for. She was no longer wearing the nightgown; some of the soldiers having pooled their money and bought her a meagre wardrobe. Still, what clothes she did have were still too big for her. The legs of her jean overalls had been rolled up several times, and her navy blue t-shirt swallowed her tiny frame. Despite her too-thin build, however, the girl was looking much healthier. Her golden curls were clean and bouncy, she had much more stamina, and she seemed to be happier. At least, when she wasn't running from nurses, doctors, or other base personnel.

She turned the corner, running into a pair of knee-high, black polished boots. Sparing only a split second to look up at the soldier, she threw both arms around the legs, clutching them tightly, and spun behind the passer-by.

Bane fought for balance at being unexpectedly tackled by the small, unseen force. He glance behind him at the only being who it could have been, his steel blue eyes twinkling in amusement. The major looked back to where the child had come from to see an exasperated, elderly nurse approach, her stern expression melting away to a grin.

"I see you met Stormie," the white haired woman greeted.

"Is that her name?" he asked noncommitally, regaining his usual stoic composure.

The nurse nodded. "She's quite a handful. Sergeant Doyle wanted me to remove her from the room while he questioned the prisoner. I figure he's done by now, and was bringing her back. Except now she's got it in her head that I'm some sort of witch, and won't let me near her."

"I see," Bane replied. He glanced behind himself at the child. She was staring at the nurse from behind Bane, clearly not happy. He looked back at the older woman, who was giving him an appraising look. Warning signs flared in his mind. "I have much to do . . ."

With that, he tried to take his leave, but Stormie gripped his legs harder, almost causing him to trip. The old nurse chuckled matronly.

"She's rather attached to you, it seems."

"Indeed," Bane muttered, frantically trying to save his dignity. He knelt down to the child's level, looking into her almost too-big eyes. "I have to go now, Stormie."

Rather that nodding and silently accepting it, as she usually did, Stormie wrapped her arms around his neck. Not expecting the motion, he almost fell back most unceromoniously. The nurse cackled, further injuring the major's ego. He tried to get himself out of the girl's vice-like embrace, to no effect. Stormie was adament, and Bane couldn't find any way to release himself, short of breaking the girl's arms.

The nurse was no help. She was almost bent over in laughter at the sight of the frighteningly stoic major being stumped by a girl younger than five. She wiped away the tears, and stood up when she could control herself. With an amused look, she watched as Bane tried everything to get the girl off of him.

"I don't think she wants to let you go, Major," she told him merrily.

Bane looked sheepish, a rare expression for him. "Apparently not. What do you propose I do?"

The nurse wished she had some way to record everything that was going on, especially the famous Bane Marquise asking her for help with a child. "I suppose you'll just have to carry her back to her room and hope she'll let you go then. If not, that's where all my supplies are. I could give her some muscle relaxer so you can go back to work."

The major looked rather embarrassed that he'd have to carry Stormie, but he couldn't see any way out of it. With a sigh of resignation, he stood, the child in his arms. As usual, she was calm, and laid her head on his strong chest, sucking her thumb contentedly. Bane just prayed that no one would pass him on the way to her room, but he much doubted that. Unlike the nighttime hours, the corridors of the hospital area of the base were rarely empty during the day.

Fortunately, as the unlikely trio strode down the hall, they only met a handful of people. Most were doctors or nurses, lost in paperwork or thought as they passed. However, they passed two orderlies, both young, one man and one woman. They openly gaped at the sight of Bane with the girl, walking beside a nurse old enough to be his grandmother. Bane sent them a cold glare that demanded nothing be told of what they had just seen. Both orderlies quickly looked away, but the black haired young man knew the story would be told to their companions as soon as they went on their designated breaks. Luckily, very few people would even believe such a story.

Bane walked on, knowing the route by heart. He ignored the quizzical looks from the nurse, no longer caring what conclusions she might draw. Within moments, they arrived at Stormie's room. Bane looked around, curioius to find it empty. Doyle must have taken the female prisoner to another room, possibly one where she would be far more comfortable talking. Having arrived, Bane thought it time that Stormie released him, and tried pulling the girl off of him.

"I have to get to work, Stormie," Bane told her, irritation leaking into his voice. She didn't make so much as a noise, but clutched him tighter. He tried again, to no avail. "Stormie, let me go . . . Stormie!"

He sent a pleading look to the nurse, who was struggling to keep from laughing. At his expression, however, she lost all control, and flew into peals of laughter. Two other laughing voices stabbed into Bane's ears, dealing a lethal blow to his pride.

* * *

Trinity had tried very hard to dislike the small redhead named Doyle when she first met him, and failed horribly. He was such a compassionate, understanding man that Trinity couldn't help but like him. He never pressed for answers, he didn't seem to care if she replied sarcastically or scathingly, and he often joked right along with her. All in all, he treated her as he would any other soldier in the Allies' Army, not as a prisoner of war.

However, Doyle was there to interrogate her, and Trinity recognized that. She wouldn't tell him anything of the rebel plans, or where their bases were located. She didn't mind sharing humorous, anonymous anecdotes from her life, though. Often times, her "interrogation" lasted hours, mostly with her talking, and Doyle listening.

Doyle was a brillant listener, she soon found out. No matter the subject, he always seemed interested, and he almost always had something supportive to say. He even lent his shoulder for her to cry on when she had thought of Solo at all that day. In fact, he was such a good listener, and seemed so trustworthy, that Trinity had to reign in the urge to tell him everything. She supposed that was why he was the interrogator. Despite all of that, she still liked him immensely.

When Doyle arrived early, Trinity thought nothing of it. She bid the nurse and child farewell, turned to her fast-becoming friend. He gave her a disarming smile, and bid that she follow him. He wouldn't tell her where he was taking her, only saying that it was a surprise with a merry twinkle in his soulful brown eyes. As they walked down the hall, they idly chatted about unimportant things, acting more like casual friends than enemies. So caught up in their conversation, Trinity forgot to watch for signs of where she was going. It came as a surprise to her when they reached the doors to outside of the huge base.

"What's this about?" she demanded, suspicion seeping into her tone.

"I figured you'd would've wanted to be outside for a change," Doyle told her. "I know it's not Earth, but it's better than being completely inside."

Trinity agreed, and stepped out, inhaling the atmosphere. While it was lacking in the Earth's fresh, natural scent, the Colonial air was much fresher than the air inside the base, which smelled of disinfectant and recycling. There were no trees, or plants of any kind, and the only people outside were wearing Allies' Army uniforms, but it was a welcome change to the base's monotony.

She and Doyle continued chatting, every so often touching on the subject of the rebels. Trinity gracefully dodged the more probing questions of where the rebels where located, and what the names were of some of the major leaders. However, she gladly explained to Doyle the sentiments of the rebels, explaining in great depth how the rebels felt towards Earth and the Allies' Army.

"Earth has always ruled the Colonies," she told him in her usual passionate tone. "Ever since the Colonies were built, Earth acted like a tyrannical dictator. The Colonists are just tired of having to pay all the taxes, and getting nothing but garbage in return. We want to be free, to govern ourselves, just like every other country on Earth. Is that so much to ask?"

Doyle only gave her lukewarm answers, which was more than Trinity ever expected from an Allies' Army soldier. His half-hearted agreement further endeared him to her. He, in turn, told her of the latest news with the Allies' Army and Earth, explaining to her in terms she was sure to know. Like Trinity, he only told her of general things.

As always, their talk ran well over the given hour for interrogation. Doyle escorted Trinity back inside, telling her in detail the best way to make spaghetti sauce. Cooking had always interested Trinity, and she hung on every word. Spaghetti had never been her strong suit. Doyle stopped at the door, looking at her with a small smile.

"It was nice talking to you, Trinity," he told her. She resisted the urge to tell him to call her by her nickname among the rebels. "I suppose I'll . . ."

He trailed off, staring incredulously into the room. Trinity glanced, then looked again. Her jaw dropped at the sight. The black haired soldier she had seen several nights ago was in her room, the child in his arms. He was trying to get her down, but she would have none of it. The nurse that cared for Stormie - Trinity never could remember her name - was struggling with her laughter, her face red from the attempt. What capped it for the young blond woman was when the man looked pleadingly at the nurse.

Nurse, sergeant, and prisoner laughed out loud at the sight, causing the man's face to color, if only slightly. He glared at Doyle and Trinity with steele blue eyes half-hidden behind his platinum black locks. The effect would have been quite menacing, if it were not for the next events.

Stormie spied Trinity immediately, and her expression turned to one of pure joy. She launched herself at the young woman, using the soldier as a springboard. In doing so, she managed to knock the air from his lungs. He doubled over at the sudden attack, coughing and gasping for air. The laughter redoubled.

"I see my assistance is no longer necessary," the nurse said, wisely escaping from the room lest the man decide to retaliate.

"I'll see you later," Trinity called out, still chuckling. She gave the girl an affectionate squeeze. Doyle finally managed to calm down enough for speech.

"You're definately not the heartless ogre the rebels like to portray you as!" he said between laughs. "Or that you pretend to be."

"Yeah," the man gasped, "I'm a real humanitarian."

"Don't be so hard on yourself, Major," he replied easily. "You're still the cold-hearted bastard everyone knows and fears."

Trinity looked between the two, her expression very confused.

"Sorry," Doyle said at her expression. "Trinity, this is Major Bane Marquise, the man who interrupted your, uh, first 'interrogation.'"

Shock tore through the young woman at the name, and information Doyle added. She stared the major up and down. He was younger than she would have thought, and more comely. The recent events played back to her, and she now realized why they were so funny. Stories of the man's cruelty and ruthlessnes rebounded in her mind, clashing painfully with the image in front of her. Bane Marquise was supposed to be the man who killed her mother, aunt, and uncle, as well as dozens of others. He was reputed to have been behind the recent successful attacks on rebel bases, leading his men with skill and cunning.

"What's wrong?" Doyle asked, seeing her shock.

She glanced at him, then back at Bane, before her eyes fell to the floor. "I . . . It's just that . . ." She looked back up at Bane, then to Doyle again. "I've just heard so much about him . . . I wasn't expecting . . ." Her gaze traveled back to Bane.

"Oh," Doyle said. "I see . . ."

There was a pregnant silence, broken by the major.

"I have work that needs to be done," he said tonelessly. With that, he calmly walked out of the room. Trinity flinched when he passed her, but didn't do anything else. She looked up when he was gone, locking her gaze with Doyle's.

"I have to be going too," he told her, turning to leave.

"Wait!" she called. Doyle stopped, and looked over his shoulder at her. Trinity bit her lip nervously. "You said that he . . . That Bane s-saved me . . .?"

Doyle nodded. "Yeah. You should've seen him. I've never seen him look so . . . so outraged . . ." He shuddered. "I don't think I want to ever agian . . ."

With that, the sergeant left Trinity to her thoughts. She was vaguely aware that Stormie was still in her arms, falling asleep. What was foremost in her mind, though, was the knowledge that the most hated and feared man in all the Colonies had saved her life, had been angered at her treatment. The thought didn't sit well at all.

* * *

Wow, Bane had his pride wounded, possibly fatally. Owie. And just who is this doctor that Townsend is speaking with? Tee hee. Oh, some background information that nobody cares about. As I was writing this (a bazillion years ago), I had left off with Shawn just being drunk on the building top for several months, no inspiration to write and nothing in my mind to help me try. Obviously, I got over that, but I just thought it would be something interesting to know. :sighs: Yeah, I know, you don't care.

Well, no one's reviewed for this. Hopefully, I'll get more reviewers with the name and summary change. :crosses fingers and hopes:

REVIEW, DAMNIT:calms down: Please:puppy dog eyes:


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